Devils and Dust (26 page)

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll go. But promise me one thing.”

Castle rolled his eyes. “You are not in any position to bargain here, Mr. Keller.”

“I’m not bargaining. I’m just asking. It’ll cost you nothing.”

“Tell me while you’re walking,” Castle said.

Keller moved toward the door. “If you’ve got access to a computer, go online. Look up Church of Elohim. E-L-O-H-I-M.” He walked through the doorway. There was a short hallway in front of him, with a barred window set high in the wall at the end of it providing the only light, and old-fashioned barred cells on either side of the hallway.

“I’ll do that,” Castle said, “in my abundance of spare time. Keller to the right. Mr. Sanchez to the left.”

In moments they were in the cells, facing each other across the hallway. There was nothing in each cell but a pair of bunks and a metal toilet. “Remember what I said, Castle,” Keller said.

The only reply was the clang of the metal door closing. The deputy didn’t speak as he walked down the hallway and out of the door.

“S
O,”
A
NGELA
said, “is Huston your first name or your last name? Or is it like Madonna? Or Cher?”

She sat across from him at a table in a featureless room with only the table and chairs for furnishings. Angela assumed, however, that there would be others listening.

Huston smiled. “Let’s go with that last one.”

“Are you FBI?” Angela said. “DEA? CIA?”

Still the same smile. “Officially, I’m a cultural attaché.”

“CIA, then. How’s the girl I came in here with?”

“I understand she was badly shot up. I don’t know anything beyond that.”

“She’s got a lot of information you might want,” Angela said. “About drug trafficking, human trafficking, arms across the border, you name it. You should take really good care of her.”

Huston nodded. The smile didn’t waver. “Believe me, we’ve considered that.” The smile faded a bit. “But,” he said with a shrug, “she is apparently a Mexican national. The subject of an investigation by the local state police, but not the Federals. The
Federales,
according to what we can find out, know nothing about any killing in any whorehouse in Ciudad de Piedras. And that in itself is pretty interesting.” The mask dropped away and Huston’s face suddenly looked as cold and merciless as an Aztec idol’s. “So, Mrs. Angela Sanchez, most recently of Wilmington, North Carolina, maybe you should be as honest as you possibly can about what the hell is going on here, before we decide to throw you both back in the lagoon and let the sharks figure out who wins and who loses.”

“I’m going to tell you,” Angela said. “You don’t need to bully me.”

Huston studied her for a moment, his dark brown eyes locked on hers. Then he nodded. “Okay,” he said, “I’m going to break protocol here, and tell you I’m sorry. I know you want to help, and I know why. So.” He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile Angela had seen from him. “Please, Mrs. Sanchez, tell us what you think we need to know, paying special attention to the smuggling of people and weapons into the United States.”

She took a deep breath, then she told him everything. Huston sat across from her, nodding from time to time. She noticed after a while that he wasn’t taking any notes, and mentioned it.

“Don’t worry,” Huston smiled. “We’ve got that covered.”

“You’ve got the room wired.”

“Of course.”

Angela kept talking. When she finally wound down, Huston nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “This may be of use. If true.”

“I hope so,” she said. “Because it’s true. All of it.”

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “We’ve been picking up lots of chatter, seeing lots of movement of people and assets. Those trucks found empty out in the desert, with no sign of what happened. Sources tell us that everyone’s jumpy, as if something big is about to happen. Up until now, we haven’t known what that is. And now, thanks to you, we have some more pieces of the puzzle. Andreas Zavalo’s about to make a move on Auguste Mandujano.” He smiled at her. “Assuming everything you’ve told us is true.”

“What are you going to do?” she said, adding, “Assuming this is all true.”

He shrugged. “Well, there’s an argument to be made for letting them do it. One less
narcotraficante
, or a few dozen if this thing turns bloody, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“But a lot of innocent people might get killed.”

He sighed. “There is that.” He stood up. “I’ll have someone show you to a room where you can freshen up. Maybe get some rest.”

“Has anyone found out what happened to my husband?” Angela asked. “And my friend Jack Keller?”

Huston shook his head and sat back down. He studied the backs of his hands for a moment, as if considering what to say.

She felt her throat constricting in fear. “What’s happened?”

Huston seemed to come to a decision. He looked up at her. “Border Patrol found a burned-out truck just north of the border. There was a lot of spent brass around. Evidence of some kind of firefight. A lot of blood.” He hesitated. “Three bodies.”

“Who?” the word came out as a whisper.

“They haven’t identified them yet.”

She took a deep breath, tried to calm her thudding heart. “Was one of them Latino?”

He looked sympathetic. “I don’t know. I’ll see if I can find out.”

“Please do,” she said. “And thank you. Now, I think I need to lie down.”

He stood up again. “Of course,” he said. “Follow me.”

K
ELLER PACED
the cell like an animal, going back and forth from the bars to the bed to the toilet, over and over, looking for something, anything he could use to try and get them out. Oscar sat on the bed, watching him from across the hall.

“You’re going to wear yourself out doing that,” Oscar said finally.

Keller paused at the cell door, leaning his head against the bars. The iron felt cold on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Oscar,” he said. “I screwed up. I thought I could get that cop to trust us.”

“Because he was a fellow soldier,” Oscar said. “He’d been where you’d been.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Oscar shrugged. “This is not over. Maybe he will have a change of heart.”

“I can’t depend on that,” Keller said. He looked back at the bed. “Only thing I can think of is I try to clog the toilet. Maybe with the blanket from the bed. I flood the cell. The cop has to come in and stop the water. I rush him.”

“And then?” Oscar said.

“Then we get the hell out of here.”

“I mean, what happens to that young officer? You’ll have to injure him. Maybe kill him. Do you think he deserves that?”

“I don’t care what anyone deserves,” Keller said. “I need to get us out.”

Oscar shook his head. “I think you do care,” Oscar said. “If he’s an innocent man, doing his job, then you must not harm him. And I think we both believe that’s what he is.”

Keller sat down on the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists. He recalled Lucas’s words.
You never killed anyone that didn’t try to kill you first
. “I need to get us out of here,” he repeated.

“You will,” Oscar said. “You will think of something. Or opportunity will present itself. When it does, you’ll know what to do. I have faith in you. Perhaps you should as well.” He lay back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. “I’m going to rest now,” he said. “And think. Try to do the same.” Then he was silent.

Keller thought for a moment. Then he got up and went to the bars again. He looked down the hall to where the metal door blocked his access to the rest of the world.
Come on, Castle
.
Come on
.
Do the right thing.

R
AY
C
ASTLE
sat at the desk and rubbed his eyes. Keller was right. What he’d been ordered to do didn’t make any sense. But then, it wasn’t the first time he’d been ordered to do things he didn’t completely understand. And now he was back to thinking about Fallujah, and that was something he tried to avoid thinking about as much as he could.

Orders. Right. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the Sheriff.

Cosgrove answered on the first ring. “You get ‘em, Ray?”

“Yes, sir,” Castle said. “They’re locked up in the substation. I caught them outside the perimeter of the Church of Elohim farm.”

“Were they trying to break in?” Cosgrove said.

“No, sir. They didn’t have a chance. They were checking it out, though. And I took some weapons off them. Two pistols, a shotgun, and, get this, an assault rifle with a grenade launcher on it.”

“No shit,” Cosgrove said.

“No, sir,” Castle replied. “The rifle looked military. I’m getting ready to run them all through NCIC, see if any of them come up stolen.”

“No,” Cosgrove said hastily. “Don’t do that.”

“Sir?”

“Don’t do anything until I get there. And keep this completely quiet. Completely. Understand?”

“No, sir,” Castle said. “I really don’t.”

“Just do it, son,” Cosgrove said. “I’ll explain everything when I get there.” He hung up.

Castle stared at the cell phone, then put it down on the desktop. He looked around the deserted substation, thinking. Then he booted up the computer.

“I
HAVE
them,” Cosgrove told Walker.

“Both?”

“Both. They’re locked up in the substation.”

“Who picked them up?”

“Castle,” the Sheriff said. “The new kid.”

“The black?” Cosgrove could almost see the General’s sneer.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “He’ll do what he’s told.”

“None of those people can be trusted,” the General said. “He’s a potential weak link. You’ll have to get rid of him.”

“Get rid of—”

“Make it look like Keller tried to escape and shot him. Then you kill Keller. My sources have been filling me in on him. He’s a lunatic with a history of violence. He should have been locked up years ago. You’ll be the man of the hour, having stopped a dangerous and unstable killer threatening your town.”

“No,” Cosgrove said. “No way. I’m not shooting one of my own men.”

“He’s not a man,” Walker said, “and he already knows too much. Especially if the prisoners are talking to him. Telling him about what’s happening. Do you think he’ll just go along with that?”

Cosgrove was beginning to sweat. “No,” he said finally. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“See that you do,” Walker said. “Save the wetback for me. I’ll be there in a bit to pick him up.”

“What are you going to do?”

“He came here to find his sons. I’m going to give them the family reunion they want.” He paused. “Then I’m going to hang all three of them.”

R
AMON
O
RTEGA
was sitting on a bench on the street, eating his lunch, when the call he’d been dreading for years came. The cell phone in his shirt pocket buzzed. He put down the sandwich he’d been eating and pulled the phone out. When he saw the number, the food turned to a lump in his gut. The phone buzzed again. He answered. His hand was shaking as he put the phone to his ear.

“
Bueno
,” he said. His voice came out as a dry croak. He took a sip of the bottled water on the bench beside him and answered again, more strongly. “
Beuno
?”

“Ramon,” a voice said. “It’s time to pay the debt you owe.” The voice spoke in Spanish, the words distorted by some sort of filter so that he couldn’t tell who was speaking.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“There are two women who have been taken into the consulate. They are probably in the guest quarters. One is wounded. They must not leave there alive. They must certainly not be allowed to reach the United States.”

“I…I don’t know if I can get into the guest quarters. I’m only a file clerk—”

“You will find a way. Or your debt will have to be paid in some other fashion. Perhaps your sisters can pay it for you. Or your wife. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I understand.”

“Do you still have the object we gave you?”

“Yes,” he said. He thought of the gun in his bottom desk drawer, buried under a pile of old magazines and meaningless junk paper. He had never fired it, and had hoped he never would.